morning.
They were to off-saddle under some high kopjes about ten miles
from town; they were to have a picnic and an amazing view. I
could not go myself, as I had an appointment to keep. But I sent
two Mashona boys to be their retinue; one of them was Johannes,
my own right hand at home. I solemnly entrusted the strangers and
their steeds to his keeping.

When I came in about sunset that Monday evening they had not
returned. But before the daylight failed, three of them were back
Mrs. Browne, Drayton, and the under-boy. Where were Browne and
Johannes? Mrs. Browne seemed to be a little uneasy, but she
affected to make light of what had happened. She said that her
husband had wanted to see the country beyond, so he had gone on
with the boy. He was sure to be back to-morrow, as he had taken
so little food with him. Drayton said nothing at the time, but
after dinner, when we were smoking on the stoep, he began to
quote to me:

'I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful a faery's child;
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.'

'What do you mean to insinuate?' I said.

'Oh, I don't mean anything libelous. Browne hasn't gone off with
a comely Mashona. But, for all that, I believe he's taken Africa
much too seriously. She has a grim fascination for me, but she
doesn't stop at that with him. She grips him and orders him to
come along.'

'Tell me about today,' I said.

'Browne acknowledged a little to me three days ago,' Drayton
said. 'He told me that this huge Tamburlaine (or rather
Zenocrate) of a country was giving him too heady a welcome. He
said she was still in the Middle Ages, and not only there, but
more than half outside the pale of Christendom, such as it was
then. So she had strange forces at work in her, and used
incantations to allure, in prodigal variety. He talked about
Lapland, and some footling researches he had made into the magic
of the north. He also told me a horrible tale or two of the South
that he had found in the Bodleian. One was a real curdler, I can
tell you. Jerry Browne's own moustache seemed to turn up like a
German's as he imparted it to me. You know he's romantic enough
in his way, though he does lead such a repressed life. You should
see him at home.'

'But do tell me why he's gone off so suddenly,' said I, with some
impatience.

'I can't tell you very much,' said Drayton. 'We rode out, and
Jerry seemed tremendously cheerful quite sportive. Anyone who'd
on